


Mother Daughter FIGHTING Time

by Yatterqueen



Series: #wedgiewednesday [24]
Category: Unlisted
Genre: Gen, no tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-06-01 07:49:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6509278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yatterqueen/pseuds/Yatterqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I tried another hero/villain thing. I think this is my best offering in that regards. Longer than my usual, but kind of worth it? Easier to get it to this point since it isn't as slice of life as my other stories.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Mother Daughter FIGHTING Time

**Author's Note:**

> I tried another hero/villain thing. I think this is my best offering in that regards. Longer than my usual, but kind of worth it? Easier to get it to this point since it isn't as slice of life as my other stories.

There's a fierce rivalry brewing between Carmilla Black and her mother, Monica Rappaccini. None can say their relationship is enviable and one day it will end… poorly.  In the interim, they content themselves with dancing around the inevitable via low, slapstick comedic techniques. It’s unconventional, to be sure, and it’s a little weird but what is, is and what will be, will be.

For her part, Monica’s often tried to move forward until Carmilla drags her back by her underwear. 

It's gotten to the point where Rappaccini has built a robot specifically to handle this problem for her, after a disastrous attempt at doing it herself.

Now, she waits for her daughter to fall for her decoy.

“Dr. Rappaccini,” her assistant says, interrupting the scientist’s thoughts. “It’s fully operational. You really outdid yourself this time, ma’am. Are you going to personally attend its first mission?”

Monica shakes her head. “Its only mission. I’m going to put an exclamation point on this little game and then focus on real issues, like fixing a broken system.”

“Yes, ma’am. Would you like to see the effects of the testing?”

“No, no. I want it all to be a surprise. Begin mass-producing.”

Carmilla doesn't work for SHIELD anymore but Natasha is kind enough to give her the lowdown on anything Rappaccini related. However, Widow doesn’t want to get involved with that stuff again, so she’s sending a friend to help: Angela Del Toro, the White Tiger. 

She also tricked Elektra into attending, pretending to be a client sending her out on a hit. The money is real; Natasha figures that may be enough for Natchios to call it even. If not, she’s welcome to come do something about it.

First, however, the two women that are willingly seeking out Monica stake outside the old AIM factory.

“This is your mother we’re after?” Angela asks, looking through a pair of binoculars at the entrance.

Carmilla nods. “Yeah, I started it, but she figures she can finish it. I think I get my pettiness from her. Depending on how this goes, we may not actually arrest her.”

“That makes perfect sense. We won’t arrest the terrorist.”

“Hey, I don’t know about you,” Carmilla says. “But I wouldn’t want a mom who’s known by, like, everyone as the woman with her panties over her face.”

“Then… don’t give her a wedgie? It isn’t difficult, Scorpion.”

“As if,” Carmilla responds, readying her stinger. “You’re asking for the _impossible_ , Tiger.”

“...I’m going to have a talk with Natasha about real crime.”

“On your own time, Ang, on your own time.”

“Secret identities!”

“Your mask doesn’t even cover most of your face!”

“Shut up!”

The two are interrupted by a pair of sai at their throats. Elektra stands over them, glaring daggers.

“What are _you_ doing here?” she says to Carmilla, remembering her from last time. “Is this Rappaccini again?”

“Nah,” Carmilla lies, moving Elektra’s sai from her neck. “We’re looking for something else.” Which is technically sort of true. She’s “looking” to put her mother’s underwear over her head, not really Monica in particular.

“My target is in there. Do not get in my way.”

“Don’t get in ours,” Angela interjects. She and Elektra have a terse staredown before the lights in the abandoned AIM facility flicker on.

“A trap,” Elektra says. “And an obvious one… at… that.”

The Scorpion and the White Tiger are already gone, attempting to climb in through the windows. Elektra supposes they will cause a big enough of a distraction for her to find who she needs and so, she follows.

The building is empty of people, except for Monica standing atop a staircase. 

“Hello,” she says. “Oh, it's _almost_ a repeat of last time. The cast’s slightly different and you won’t win in the end.”

Elektra smacks Carmilla in the back of the head. “You lied to me.”

“Hit me again, _Nachos_.”

“Call me _Nachos_ again.”

Angela shushes the both of them. “I think Rappaccini was trying to say something.”

“Thank you, White Tiger. I just wanted to introduce you to my latest creations. I’ll no longer need to participate in this silly game ever again.”

Carmilla glares up at her but the doors surrounding the trio steal her attention away. Robots pour out, but there’s something different about them. They’ve got big hands and their legs look as if they expand. They seem built for a purpose.

“Did you… did you build robots to give me a wedgie?” Carmilla asks, confused. “Really?”

Monica mocks her voice and then explains, “I have other things to do besides indulge you.”

Elektra sighs and then throws a sai at one of the robots. “If we destroy them, we’ll be fine. Let’s just get it over with.”

“I doubt you will be able to,” Monica says.

“We will,” Elektra responds.

“I don’t think so.”

“We will,” Angela says. 

Monica watches as her robots get torn to shreds, uncaring at the number she’s losing. There’s too many for them to keep beating and one grabs Elektra by her leotard and pulls her away from its fellow robot.

The assassin’s face grimaces as her leotard is yanked up her behind. This horrible prank again! Natasha’s going to pay for this. The robot’s legs stretch so it lifts Elektra off the ground, leaving her to kick her legs futilely.

Carmilla and Angela take a momentary break to watch Elektra dangle and briefly wonder how to get her down, but that costs them. The robots pin them down face first.

Monica speaks once more. “Don’t worry, you two will be next. I want to see what my robots will do to _Nachos_ first.”

Elektra does not blush in embarrassment, but turns red from anger. She has one of her sais at the ready, slicing through the robot’s hands. However, when she falls to the ground, more robots come and grab her.

She attempts to fight them off but there are too many for her to overpower. The robots rip her leotard at the waist, separating it into two distinct pieces of clothes and turning the bottom half into a virtual pair of underwear.

“This ought to be fun,” Monica muses.

Elektra grits her teeth as the robots resume pulling, turning the bottom half of her leotard against her. It rides up easily and quickly, the mechanical menaces getting them to her mid-back. She struggles, trying to free her arms. 

One falls to her pull, taking a few others with it, but the one gripping her leotard once again stretches its feet.

The other robots begin to jump up to grab her legs, gravity pulling Elektra back to Earth and increasing her wedgie a hundred-fold. Soon, what remains of the bottom of her leotard is stretched up to her neck as she’s being pulled to the ground. 

Every time Elektra seems to be nearing a point where the robots can’t hang from her feet, the wedgie-giving robot extends its legs and pulls her higher. 

Monica is content with the display.

“Okay. Now, the Tiger.”

“Wait, we can -- ow, _hey_! Stop it!”

The robots rip Angela’s costume in half as well, but pull out her solid blue panties and, holding down her upper body, begin yanking the underwear to the sky, lifting her legs up in the process.

“Don’t let her win!” Carmilla says.

Angela shrieks when the pressure is momentarily let up, only to find the robot gathered more fabric. “Easy for you --ow! To say!”

“What, you’ve never had a wedgie before?”

“No! I’m not a nerd!”

“You don’t have to -- _ugh_. You and I are hanging out after this.”

“I’d rather not!”

The robots transition to pulling the underwear horizontal, across Angela’s prone body. From the earlier stretching, they easily get it to her neck. Angela tries to wiggle her way out of it, but that doesn’t work. The robots get the underwear above her head and then pull down until they hook it under her chin.

“Mmpppfff!” Angela screams, her underwear being used as a heinous weapon. She understands her “aunt” Ava’s pain now. She might take it a little easier on her. Maybe. “Scorpion, do something!”

“I’m as held down as you are, Tiger!”

Monica doesn’t seem wholly satisfied with the atomic, but lets it go.

“Technique 11,” she says. “End this little war of mine for me.”

Carmilla groans as she feels the robots reaching for her underwear, white with pink trim. “C’mon, you’re not fighting fair, Monica.”

“Stop whining. It’ll be 3-2 and done before you know it.”

The robots begin by having one grip her underwear and then floating up so it is parallel to the ground. That one grows a handle from its back that another grips and pulls, dragging Carmilla along the floor by her panties and sinking the underwear in her butt.

“Dragging wedgie? Ow! That all you got?”

It doesn’t yet occur to Carmilla that taunting her mother and her wedgie robots may not be the best plan of action. Ultimately, however, it wouldn’t have mattered. That wasn’t all to Technique 11.

The robots stop and the one holding the handle uses its ability to stretch it’s legs, taking both the robot holding Carmilla’s panties and Carmilla herself with it.

“Ack -- okay, so this one smarts.”

“That isn’t all, daughter.”

The robot holding her panties starts to extend its arms and then rapidly contracting them, bouncing Carmilla like a yoyo.

“Hey, ow! Owowowow!”

Monica looks around, Elektra hanging by her leotard being pulled forever closer to the ground. The White Tiger with her underwear over her face. Her daughter being bounced like a yoyo.

“They work just fine,” she concludes and leaves to take a well-deserved break and await the arrival of a potential partner.

However, there is one design flaw in her robots: they need to be charged every so often. Monica’s blueprints called for unlimited energy that was represented in the prototype, but in haste, her assistant changed it so that they would need to be charged in order to facilitate the mass production.

Soon, the robots power down. They fall from Elektra’s legs and the ones holding her and Carmilla airborne shrink back down to their normal size so that both women are on the ground once again. Angela is let free so she can peel the underwear from her face.

“We’re going to get her,” Elektra says. She doesn’t bother picking her wedgie like the other two do, because as soon as she does, her underwear is going to droop to the floor. “We are going to make her pay.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Carmilla says.

Monica invited her assistant along, but is regretting it due to how chatty the woman is. She doesn’t care about whether or not her assistant is going to be bridesmaid or maid of honor.

“I should be maid of honor,” the assistant says. “I was there during her first breakup, her pregnancy scare. I should --

Her guest arrives just in time, however, to prevent Monica from firing a laser at her talkative unpaid intern.

“Monica Rappaccini, I presume,” an Egyptian woman wearing a slit dress says, entering the room.

“Cleo Nefertiti, the Asp. Please, sit.”

Cleo sits across from the scientist. “What did you call me here for?”

“I’m offering you a place in AIM,” Monica says, “Under me.”

“As tempting an offer as that is, and it is very tempting, AIM doesn’t have a very good track record at success.”

“True. But I think that will change once you’ve seen what I was able to do to Elektra Natchios and two other superheroes.”

“Oh? You killed them?”

“Not exactly, I --”

All three of Monica’s foes burst into the room, ready to fight. 

Cleo takes one look at Elektra and bursts out laughing. “What happened to her? You did this, Dr. Rappaccini? Count me in.”

Elektra nods. “She’s mine then. Leave some of Rappaccini for me.”

Angela points to the assistant. “Same. But I’ll take that one first.”

Carmilla cracks her knuckles. “Guess that leaves you and me, mom. For the time being.”

Monica gets ready to teleport, but Elektra flings a sai at her. It distracts her long enough for Carmilla to tackle her to the ground.

Cleo gets up and tries to protect herself, but she’s no match in hand to hand for an incensed Elektra. The assassin trips her, causing the dress to fly up and over her head. Elektra grabs the high waisted green bikini panties and pulls Cleo across the room.

“Oh -- ow! Stop!” Cleo protests. Elektra ignores her and drags her to a dull hook, lifting her up and placing her underwear there. Cleo drops for a moment until she’s caught in a hanging wedgie. 

“Get me down!” she demands.

Elektra glares at her and Cleo goes quiet. 

It’s one thing to be indignant and another to be stupid. This hanging wedgie is fine, in light of what Elektra could do, so she just crosses her arms and her legs, trying to prevent her underwear from riding up further.

Meanwhile, Angela has already gotten to the assistant, bouncing her up and down over the break table by purple granny panties.

“I want you to quit after this,” she says. “Promise me that and I’ll let you go.”

“I promise, I promise! I’ll get a real job!”

“Good...” A momentary pause before Angela gathers a lot of fabric and pulls one more time, this time earning a scream from the assistant. “One more for good measure.”

Monica would protest, but she’s wrestling with Carmilla. Her daughter gets the advantage and presses it, turning her over onto her stomach and sitting on her back. 

Carmilla reaches into the skirt and pulls out a the waistband of a pair of white and pink granny panties. “Jeez, mom.”

Monica struggles briefly before her lower body is lifted off the ground by Carmilla’s tugs. “Ow! Carmilla, stop this instant!”

“Don’t wanna’.”

“I’m warning you!”

Carmilla ignores her. “You guys gonna’ get in on this or what?”

Elektra’s finished finding a hook for the assistant, but there doesn’t seem to be anymore. Except…

“Give me a moment.”

Angela comes and takes her turn, Carmilla handing the underwear off. The peeved feline gives Monica the same wedgie she just got; an over the face atomic.

Carmilla follows it up by pulling the front of Monica’s panties up higher, right over her chest. She maintains the grip but motions for Elektra to come.

“About time, Nachos.”

Elektra ignores that for the moment. She takes the front of the panties and threads a rope through them. “Tiger, give me a hand.”

Angela nods and helps Elektra up so that she can tie the rope around one of the blades of a ceiling fan. 

Monica groans as she’s hoisted in the air and the fan is set to on, setting her slowly swinging. Carmilla takes her underwear off her face before she goes up, leaving them over her eyes.

“We done here?” Angela asks, looking around the room. Two villains and one unpaid assistant all in a hanging wedgie. An unconventional way to stop crime, sure, but amusing nonetheless.

“I think so,” Carmilla says. “Unless you got -- ow!”

Elektra gives her a wedgie, pulling her previously stretched out underwear over her head. “That’s for Nachos.”

Angela prevents Carmilla from trying to take revenge as Elektra leaves.

“I… I think that’s enough for today,” she says, smiling softly with Carmilla. “Let’s go.” 

  


Later,

“How often does this happen, Monica?” Cleo asks, her underwear finally ripping. She helps her new boss down.

Monica takes a much needed deep breath to calm herself and adjusts everything underneath her skirt. “Not very. Next time, we will divide and conquer.”   
  



End file.
